


You Taught Me The Courage Of Stars

by HouseofValors



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Mentions of various Legion members, mentions of Kara/Mon-El
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 12:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12984339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseofValors/pseuds/HouseofValors
Summary: The love story of Mon-El of Daxam and Imra Ardeen that was seven years in the making.





	1. Don't Give Up On Me Today

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of stories based upon a thread of tweets I created related to SaturnValor. Since not a lot has been revealed around the Legion yet, this is my interpretation of Mon-El's seven years in the 31st Century, his relationship with Imra and how it came to be, and his interactions with other Legion members.

/

From the moment Mon-El crashed to Earth again, he knew this wasn’t like the Earth he had came from. The buildings were different. The hovering cars were different. And the way he wasn’t choking from lead was the most different. Fate, luck, chance, or whatever it was that ensured Imra Ardeen was the one who found him, Mon-El was thankful.

It was jarring to hear that the year was 3017 instead of 2017, maybe more jarring than the loss of Daxam after years in the Phantom Zone. Mon-El listened as Imra explained that the world was still in conflict, that forces within the Milky Way had come to conquer the local cluster and so the planets joined together to fight. It had really only reminded Mon-El of Stars Wars and Winn, of his home.

Imra tried to explain that some, like her, had powers and abilities and were trying to stop those evil forces. The necklace around his neck felt heavier after hearing that. This century wasn’t his however, and despite their struggles, it wasn’t his job right now. His job now was to find a way back.

Mon-El asked about speedsters. He begged Imra to find him someone connected to the Speed Force to get him home. She had agreed to help this strange traveler however she could. In return, Mon-El agreed to try and help Imra fight the evil threatening the galaxy. In the end, the idea was they could both get what they wanted.

Imra had tried, reaching out to everyone in the galaxy on behalf of Mon-El but something over time had damaged the Speed Force and in turned, it stopped connecting with individuals and giving them the gift of speed. With that route closed, Mon-El sought a new way back and Imra kept giving him the help.

Within his first year in 3017, he had organized six gifted individuals into a force for good, told them stories of Supergirl and her accomplishments and founded the Legion in Supergirl’s honor. It had given Mon-El a purpose as he tried to get home, kept him grounded and connected to Kara and the Earth he knew. It left Imra in awe that a hero like Supergirl had existed and that she had succeeded against the forces of evil. She doubled her to find Mon-El a way home, despite knowing that there was no way. If she had to make a way back then she would.

/

It slowly became routine with them.

“Do you think there is a scientist who could help you manipulate time matter?” Mon-El asked, looking up from the book he had been consumed by.

Imra knew there was not yet a way for that to be done. She had been in contact with Oa and Asgard looking for answers. She set her own papers done, a small smile turned the corners of her lips up, “I believe there is somewhere. I’ve been searching for them. The galaxy is too big for them to not exist.”

Months would pass again.

“The Time Lords have the technology to travel back, couldn’t we just copy that?” Mon-El ask, leaning over the miniature scale time device Imra had put together. The last time Mon-El had touched the device, it had shook violently and exploded into a little cloud of dust.

Lifting her glasses, she nodded in agreement before she turned towards him, “Possibly. They exist, or at least they did. Two years ago they seemed to just fade from existence. If any are still active, I'll find them for you.”

The months became years. The Legion evolved on a galactic scale, Mon-El as both the leader and public face. He hadn’t given up hope for a return to his earth yet but every single other member knew there was almost no way for him to go back. Some of them had tried to bring it up but were always shushed quickly by Imra. It didn't matter if they knew it was impossible, Mon-El had not yet given up hope. Imra refused to allow anyone to take that from him.

On his end, as the months became years, Mon-El knew that every time he asked if this idea or that idea would work and Imra agreed to try, it just wouldn't work. Yet, she had never once said to Mon-El it was impossible, told him to give up and accept his fate. Mon-El knew she never would. For that, he was gracious.

He kept it in his heart that he would return though, that some miracle, or wormhole, would open once more and take him right back. Had he not yet done enough for the Gods to grant him this? In Kara’s image, he had taken six powerful individuals and morphed them into a supergroup dedicate to not only Earth but the entire Milky Way Galaxy. He lead the first line of defense and protection in the name of all that was good and just. Had all that really not granted him one favor? As time dragged on, Mon-El realized that it didn't.

/

In the Legion headquarters, Mon-El sat in one of the chairs, watching Imra intensely as she flipped through pages of some book he didn’t fully understand.

“There is no way to send me home.” Mon-El said finally, pulling Imra’s attention from the book to himself.

She turned her focus to Mon-El, eyes instantly leaving the text to find his brown eyes. Instead of a smile there was a frown and a shake of her head.

“There is a way. We just have to find it.”

“There’s not.” He replied, a bit more conviction in his voice. Dropping his feet from the desk they had been resting on, Mon-El stood, pacing back and forth in a small square.

“There’s never been a way to send me back.”

Imra was silent. He was correct but the last thing she wanted was for him to think she had been lying or leading him on. While her brain had always know there was no logical, or physical way, to send him back, her heart had chosen to believe otherwise. 

Their eyes met again and a shiver went down Imra’s spine. Mon-El didn’t seem angered or betrayed. There was a curious experience, one that she had never seen before but in some way suited Mon-El, as though it always belonged there.

“It’s okay.” He reassured her in a softer voice. “It’s not your fault, Imra.”

“I never told you the truth.”

Mon-El shook his head and moved over to her, taking the seat next to her. His hand reached over and covered hers. “You never tried to make me stop believing I could get home. It’s different. That's not a lie, that's, it's...” He struggled for a moment to find the right word. "I think I wanna say it's love."

Imra brought her hand to Mon-El’s forearm, giving his wrist a squeeze in return. “That's what you taught us. That love makes us better people. I wanted to send you home to thank you for making me a better person.”

His head hung for a second, a soft smile on his lips as Imra's words washed over him. Despite hearing for the last three years about how he did such incredible things, it felt so much more humbling hearing it from someone he cared about, and that he knew cared for him. 

Before he turned back to Imra, a small smile back on Mon-El's lips, “Thank you for letting me get here on my own, for not making me give up Earth before I was ready.”

“Are you ready?” Imra questioned. “I won’t stop trying to send you back if you aren't. That time was your home.” She added quickly.

A light chuckle came from Mon-El but he shook his head, “No. No, it’s okay. I’m ready. This is home now, Imra. The Legion, the 31st Century, you. It’s home now. I’m ready.”


	2. Out On The Edge

The 31st Century may have been home and the Legion may have been everything to Mon-El but that wasn’t enough to stop the demons.

Maybe it wasn’t demons. It was just trauma and pain that had never been processed. Whatever it was, Mon-El had been slipping back into old patterns. He kept a somewhat clear head during missions, doling out tasks and assignments, and got the job done. After the job it was another story.

He could be found at Omega or Thax or some other seedy nightlife club, on his fifth or sixth bottle of Saturian ale and some young co-ed ready to go home with him. Names didn’t matter and faces just blurred. There was no way to return to the 21st Century and the life from before. He could be a hero but that didn’t require that outside of that, he be a better man.

The team saw his breaking, saw the bags under his eyes and the stale smell of alcohol that lingered. For a time, Imra kept up the work of trying to find some way to send him back. She searched across the galaxy for a way to get him home, going so far as to request help from the splintered Time Masters, who just rejected the request outright. For all the good Mon-El had done, he was now resigned to slowly killing himself in this century.

Mon-El had been careful to not let his personal life affect his professional one but it was inevitable that it did. In a fog on his best days, Mon-El was letting bad judgement cloud all of his decisions. He couldn't think straight, couldn't focus on the right strategy and let things preoccupy his mind instead of the mission at hand. Foolishly, he had almost sent Cosmic Boy to a certain death. Had Imra not been there to call the attack off, it would have been the kind of guilt he'd never be able to shake off.

He knew full well that he couldn’t keep drowning of his sorrows and being a hero at the same time after that almost mistake. Dejected, heartbroken and simply shattered, Mon-El had told Imra he was done. The Legion was set up, it was operating near perfect and he wasn’t needed like before.

/

It had been six days since Imra or any other Legion member had seen Mon-El. At first, Imra was willing to give him the space, hoping he’d realize on his own how irrational it was for him to think he was no longer needed. The longer he went without checking in though, the more irritated Imra grew with him.

When her patience had fully run out, she tracked him down at a dingy little bar somewhere in Europe. From the second Imra had walked in, the catcalls had started and were she not so set on tearing Mon-El a new one, she would have stopped to deal with them.

At the end of the bar Mon-El sat alone, six days’ worth of facial hair growth on his face. Had the situation not been so dire, Imra briefly flirted with the idea of a beard somehow making Mon-El more attractive.

Taking a seat next to him, her nose turned up a bit as the stale ale smell clinging to him. Clearly no one else in this place had cared.

“Why are you here?” Mon-El asked, the slight exasperation coating his voice. Lifting his mug to his lips, he took a long drink, eyes fighting to stay off of Imra.

Wrapping her fingers around his glass, Imra forced the beer down and stared hard at Mon-El, waiting until he finally moved his eyes towards her.

“I’m here because our leader abandoned us. And from the looks of it, he didn’t even abandon us for something worthy of him.”

Shaking his head, Mon-El tore his eyes from her and set them straight ahead, glaring at his own reflection in the bar mirror. He hated what he looked like, how sad and pathetic his appearance had become. Yes, he had said he was ready to let go of finding a way back to 2017 but once he had actually done that, it felt as though a part inside of him had broken completely.

“You would never let one of us do this.” Imra whispered, her hands fiddling in her own lap to keep from grabbing Mon-El’s face and forcing him to look at her. “I can’t let you do this to yourself.”

“There is nothing here for me.” Mon-El finally said, a crack echoing through his voice. “This whole entire world is yours and Querl’s and everyone but mines. The Legion doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Yes we do!”

Mon-El scoffed and shook his head again as he picked his beer back up.

Imra’s hand reached over again and took the glass. Fingers pressed to Mon-El’s cheek as she forced his head to turn and look at her.

“Mon-El of Daxam, the Legion needs you. You are our leader. You gave us a purpose, an ideal to strive towards. We are not the Legion without you. Please.”

The way Imra’s voice pleaded with him, the softness of the tone mixed with desperate words cause something inside Mon-El to stir. It had been ages since anyone looked at him like that, looked at him with belief and reminded him that he was better now than he had ever been.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said, his head dropping but unable to hang as Imra still held his cheek in her palm. It wasn’t an excuse of an apology. It was sincere, a sincere offer that he had been wrong.

Lifting his head back up, Mon-El pressed a hand to his eyes to hold back or wipe away the tears that had been stinging. 

“Don’t apologize,” Imra said, her voice still soft, “All you need to do is just come back. You will always have a place with us.” 

As he tilted his head just slightly, Mon-El nodded before pushing the beer away completely. He added another tally mark to the thanks he gave the Gods for putting Imra right in his path.


End file.
